Revisionist History
by Sandrine Shaw
Summary: When an evil meta messes with the timeline, Barry is forced to go back in time and restore things to how they used to be. It doesn't quite work out the way he thought... But on the scale from a megalomaniac meta enslaving humanity to accidentally killing your friend's brother, dating your recently deceased sometimes-nemesis-sometimes-ally barely seems like a blip on the radar.


**Revisionist History**  
by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

The front door has barely fallen shut behind Barry when the all-too-familiar voice calls out to him.

"So, how was your day, _dear_?"

Sarcasm curls around the words, turning the term of endearment into something sharp and mocking. Barry's glad that some things never seem to change, even if everything else does. As he steps further into the apartment, he finds Leonard Snart sitting on his couch, arms spread across the backrest and a glass of red wine in front of him, a picture of domesticity.

There's no good way for Barry to answer the question. How do you say, _A meta changed the timeline into some awful kind of dystopia, and then I went back in time to fix things, which worked out reasonably well because everyone is alive and more or less happy and it's almost like it was before the whole mess started, except now we're apparently in a relationship, sorry about that_?

He rubs the back of his neck and looks away, unable to bring himself to meet Snart's piercing stare. His gaze falls on the picture frames on the book shelf – a smiley snapshot of him with Iris and Joe, a younger Lisa blowing a flirty kiss towards the camera, and right there in the middle, a photo of him and Snart together, the old smirk on Snart's face but an unfamiliar softness in his eyes, and the Barry on the picture is looking at him the way he knows he used to look at Iris.

The photo hammers home that this is real, that it's not some kind of practical joke, that this is _his life_ now, and he remembers Jay's lesson about trying to fix the past. How you can never quite go back to the way things used to be, never glue the broken cup together without the cracks showing.

"Don't —" He shakes his head and grimaces. "Don't even ask."

When he walked into S.T.A.R. Labs earlier today, he felt a sharp pang of relief at finding it unchanged and everyone he cared for waiting there for him – alive, unscathed, none the wiser about the kind of havoc The Historian had wreaked in the timeline Barry had just come back from. It almost seemed like he'd managed to restore everything to how it was – right up until Cisco told him, 'Dude, your boyfriend's been calling nonstop for the past hour. Maybe you should go home and tell him to _chill out_ before he shows up with the Cold Gun and turns us all into ice statues for keeping you from him.' Barry thought it was some weird in-joke until he saw the lock screen of his phone with the half-dozen missed calls from 'Leonard'.

On the scale from a megalomaniac meta enslaving humanity to accidentally killing your friend's brother, dating your recently deceased sometimes-nemesis-sometimes-ally barely seemed like a blip on the radar in the grand scheme of things. But Barry has no idea how to interact with this timeline's Snart, how to fake his way through this situation without letting on that he's out of his depth.

Stealth clearly comes natural to Leonard Snart in every timeline, because when Barry turns to face him again, he's right there in front of him, watching him with an intent, narrow-eyed focus that makes Barry want to squirm. "Sounds like one hell of a day."

"Yeah, you could... say that. Literally, almost."

Barry's lips give a tired twitch, but the joke falls flat. The time he spent in the altered reality still haunts him, all the death and destruction. The weight of those memories must show on his face, because something changes in the way Snart looks at him, something that could almost be concern flashing through his expression, come and gone so fast that not even Barry's speed is enough to tell for sure whether it was ever there to begin with.

It's enough for Barry to catch his attention and truly focus on the man in front of him, though.

The last time Barry saw him, Snart was already dead, nothing but an echo of the past. Their bittersweet goodbye in 1892 still churns uncomfortably in Barry's gut when he remembers setting Snart back on his path, knowing where it would lead him. Now he's here, alive and real like he never got himself blown up at the Oculus to begin with. He's alive – and he's _Barry's_ – and the shock of realization hits him like a blast from the Cold Gun, stirring emotions he'd shoved into a far corner of his mind and thought he'd locked away for good a long time ago when he was lying on the hard asphalt of an airfield at Ferris' testing facility, the sting of bruises from Snart's betrayal more than skin-deep.

Before he can convince himself that this is a terrible idea, he's reaching out, hands curling around Snart's neck where the cropped hair rasps softly against Barry's fingers, and pulling him into a kiss.

There's a moment before their lips connect when Snart's eyes go wide and he stills, and for one endless second Barry's afraid that he's misstepped. Maybe whatever their relationship is like, it doesn't include spontaneous kissing in the middle of the living room.

Barry's almost ready to back away and apologize, mortification keeping him momentarily frozen – but then, finally, Snart's kissing him back. His lips move against Barry's with the same calculated precision Barry's watched Captain Cold dedicate to a well-planned heist, and he's every bit as ruthless in exploiting Barry's weaknesses. Warm, insistent hands cradle Barry's face and change the angle of the kiss, and Snart makes use of the opportunity when Barry's lips fall open in a soft moan, deepening the kiss.

It leaves Barry feeling weak-kneed and wanting when Snart withdraws far too soon. He lets his hands linger on Barry's jaw for a moment, his thumb brushing against the wet, kiss-bruised lips, sending a fresh jolt of arousal through Barry's veins, burning like electricity.

When Barry tries to move in once more, though, Snart holds him at arm's length.

"That was one hell of a welcome home kiss." He wets his lips, and Barry's eyes are drawn to the sliver of tongue like a moth to a flame.

"I'm just glad to be — " _Home_ , he wants to say, but the word doesn't feel right. This isn't home, not quite yet, not the home he knows anyway. But maybe it could be, one day. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he settles on, "I'm glad to be here. It was... a really long day."

Snart only hums in response, still focused a little too intently on Barry's face, like he's trying to figure him out. It's starting to creep Barry out a little, and he decides that with Snart, the best defense has always been a good offense. "How was yours?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant while angling for some kind of information about what's going on in this timeline, or at the very least how to navigate the relationship with Snart, beyond the physical.

Snart shrugs. "Jury's still out."

It almost seems like it's the only thing Snart's willing to divulge – which doesn't help Barry at all, but fair enough. It's not like he's been exactly forthcoming about what happened to him either.

But Snart's only drawing out the dramatic pause before continuing. "Can't say it started too well. Spent a couple of lifetimes scattered through time and space, then I blinked into physical existence in a timeline I'm _pretty_ sure isn't the one I know. Unless being blown to bits messed with my memory so bad that I forgot..." He waves back and forth between them, a little excessive flourish in the gesture. "All this."

Dread settles in Barry's stomach like a physical weight, the mortifying sense of being called out so overwhelming that he finds it hard to muster up the appropriate anger at Snart playing like that. "You let me think —" He pulls away from Snart's touch, shaking his head. "Why am I even surprised? Of course you did."

He almost instantly misses the warmth of Snart's hands on him.

" _Don't_ put this on me, Barry," Snart fires back. "You're the one who jumped me."

 _Because I thought you were Leonard Snart my boyfriend, not Leonard Snart my resurrected nemesis who shouldn't even remember the old timeline,_ Barry almost says, but thankfully remembers in time that it sounds kind of terrible. It's not like he _wants_ Snart to be mind-whammied by time into thinking he's dating Barry. Telling Snart that Barry only acted the way he thought his new timeline self should act doesn't seem like a better option either – and it's not even strictly speaking true, because keeping up appearances hardly figured into his decision to kiss Snart.

After a moment's consideration that results in a stunning inability to put his conflicted feelings into a reasonable statement, he decides to forego the whole 'I thought you were another version of yourself' argument altogether.

He rubs his forehead. "How do you even still have the memories from the old timeline? No one else does."

Snart shrugs again and perches down on the armrest of the couch. "Not a scientist, Scarlet. Probably something to do with getting mixed up with a device the Time Masters used to rig the timeline. Which doesn't answer the question of how I ended up here. Your doing, I _assume_. Didn't anyone give you the 'don't mess with time' speech?"

"Of course they did. And I didn't mess with time. Not now, anyway." Barry flushes and averts his eyes when Snart raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. "It wasn't like that! This meta I was fighting – The Historian. He went back in time and changed things. It was... bad. Really bad. There was no way I could leave it like that, so I tried to fix it. And I did fix it, mostly, apart from a few... ripples."

"Like the Flash dating Captain Cold."

Barry winces. Put like that, it sounds... messy. "Yeah, that."

There's probably more; other things that aren't quite what they used to be, minor discrepancies that he'll find out about at some point along the way. But so far, out of all the possible ways this new timeline could have differed from the old one, it seems fairly tame.

"Hm. So what're you going to do now?" Snart's voice betrays nothing but casual curiosity, but Barry's known him for long enough to see the tension written in the restless drum of his fingers, in the way his posture is a little too stiff to be relaxed.

"I don't know. Order a Big Belly Burger? Find out if this timeline has _Game of Thrones_ and hope they're maybe a season ahead so I won't have to wait another year till the finale? Check if the Diamonds are still having the worst season in all the multiverse?"

The glare Snart levels at him makes it clear he doesn't really appreciate Barry's attempt at deflection.

"Cute. Not what I meant, though."

"Yeah, I know." Barry sighs and flops down on the couch, running a tired hand over his face, trying to find the right words to answer the question Snart was really asking. "Look, I can't go back and change things again, risking that whatever timeline replaces this one will be worse. It was an easy choice with the timeline The Historian created, because there wasn't much room for it to be any more terrible than it already was. But now... everything is almost like it used to be, and I'm not putting that at risk. You want out of this relationship, you just have to do it the regular way and break up with me."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Barry regrets them. The implication that from his side of things, he wouldn't be opposed to keeping things as they are is too obvious – the kind of ammunition he isn't sure he trusts Snart with.

He's surprised when Snart doesn't immediately latch onto it, doesn't ask why Barry isn't the one breaking up with him instead. Rather, Snart looks at him like he's considering his options. He joins Barry on the couch, lacing his hands in front of him and resting his chin on them in a calculated gesture of contemplation. For a moment, Barry is distracted by Snart's long, slender fingers, the memory of how they felt against his skin too fresh, and the intensity of the jolt of want he feels comes as a surprise.

He's startled when Snart finally speaks, his sharp tone cutting through the silence. "And have Detective West shoot me for breaking your heart? Pass."

Barry ducks his head in an attempt to hide the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Snart leans back, sprawling next to him with his feet up on the table. Barry almost tells him off before he remembers that this is Snart's apartment, too. In some regards, it hasn't quite sunk in yet, not properly, and he suspects it won't until he learns more about how they got here.

Either Snart has some latent telepathic meta powers or he's just freakishly good at reading Barry, because his next words mirror Barry's thoughts.

"I suppose this is preferable to being dead. Wish I knew how the two of us got together, though," he ponders, watching Barry from the side with speculation in his gaze.

"Oh, you will," Barry assures him. When Snart's look turns inquisitive, he shrugs and explains, "The memories will... I don't know how to put it. Slide into place, I guess? After a bit. It just takes a while until the timeline properly sets."

Maybe he should point out that it works the other way around too – the memories of the old timeline will fade. But he's not sure if that's true for Snart, or if the Oculus changes things. He's already remembering more than he should.

Snart appears to be mulling over the information. "Good to know. Wanna make a bet?"

"What? How we got together?"

"Hmm. I put my money on... things getting _heated_ in the middle of a fight. All that adrenaline. I iced you to the spot and stole a kiss."

Barry snorts. He can see it - all too well. It's not like there hadn't been a clash or two in the old timeline during which his imagination took a sharp left turn. Doesn't mean he's ready to give Snart the satisfaction of letting him know he's probably right. "Yeah, no, getting down and dirty in back alleys or bank vaults isn't really my speed. I think I seduced you to the good side. Gave you some... extra incentive to discover the good in you."

He half-expects Snart to get all indignant. Instead, a sly smile gradually spreads across his face, and Barry knows before Snart even opens his mouth that whatever he's gonna say will be bad.

" _Be_ the good in me, you mean?"

Despite the fact that Barry steeled himself for some awful comment, it takes a few seconds for the meaning to sink in. He groans and tries not to laugh. "That's a... terrible pun. I don't know how this timeline's me puts up with you."

"Well, I suppose you'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah, I guess I will." Just like that, the humor has been sucked out of the room, a weight hanging on Barry's shoulders that he doesn't know how to shrug off. "Snart— Leonard, look, I — Is this okay? I know you didn't exactly get to have any say in it. Neither of us did, I guess."

Even as Barry says it, he wonders if this is really true. He knows he didn't intend to change the timeline, he really meant for things to be the way they were before.

But he can't quite shake off the idea that his subconscious desire to see Snart again somehow played a part in undoing Snart's death. And if he's honest with himself, he isn't sure if he'd change that, even if he could. "I just don't want you to think that just because you got thrown into this reality, that you have to play this out. I can't change the timeline again, but if you want me to, I promise I'll do everything I can to fix this for you."

"Really, Barry? When have you ever known me to let myself get stuck in a situation I wanted out of?

Barry grins, despite himself. "You mean like pretty much all of your prison stays got cut short?"

Snart's expression turns pleased, like Barry just paid him a compliment in pointing out his skills at performing a prison break. "Quite. Trust me when I say, if I wanted out, I'd already be out. So you can stop your pointless heroic self-flagellation right there. It's kind of cute now, but it's gonna get annoying real fast when you start giving me the kid gloves treatment because you think you've somehow forced me into a reality I have no interest in being in."

"Yeah, okay, I got it."

"Not sure if you do," Snart says, and for a moment he just watches Barry, frost-blue eyes narrowed and sharp, and Barry can practically hear him thinking. He wishes he could listen in to what exactly he's thinking about, because his face isn't giving anything away, and the weight of his stare is turning uncomfortable.

At last, he seems to be coming to a decision. He clearly telegraphs his intention as he closes the distance between them and moves in for the kiss, but somehow Barry is still surprised when it happens. There's something about Snart putting himself out there like this that completely disarms and unnerves Barry. The other kiss, before, that was different: Barry had been the one to initiate it, and Snart could easily pass it off as conning him, playing into Barry's belief that he had no memories of the original timeline. Snart kissing him now, with both of them fully aware of who exactly the other is, is so much more loaded.

Barry's heart beats a storm when Snart's lips brush against his, whisper-soft and hesitant, like he isn't sure of his welcome.

Barry closes his eyes and leans into the kiss, his mouth falling open under Snart's. Even then, it stays gentle, tentative, and Barry thinks he might be beginning to understand what Snart is trying to tell him. It's just like Snart to count on Barry to read between the lines, to express himself in a convoluted way rather than using his words.

When they break away, he lets his forehead rest against Snart's.

"No, really. I get it," he says quietly. Part of him wants nothing more than to use his speed to flip them around, to press closer and grind against Snart until they're both desperate and breathless and too drunk on desire to think, but there is such a thing as too fast, and Barry thinks that Snart might need the reassurance. Maybe they both do. "And for the record, me too."

Snart's lips curl into a smile. It's self-satisfied and a little smug, but lacking the edge of the usual smirk Barry's become all too familiar with. "Wanna spell that out for me, Barry?"

Barry rolls his eyes and tells himself that Snart's attempt at fishing is in no way endearing.

"Not particularly," he teases, enjoying the chance to give Snart a tiny little taste of his own medicine. "You're a smart guy, you can figure it out."

He cuts off whatever smart-ass response Snart was going to give him, pulling him into another kiss.

End.


End file.
